


Burning

by ricekrispyjoints



Series: From the Ashes [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Coming of Age, Competition, F/F, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Mild sexual innuendos, Otabek is 21, Self-Discovery, Shoutout to Wikipedia, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, as in this is a few years post canon, everything i know about skating i learned from YOI, her name is nastya in this fic, nastya is 19, or you may be very confused how we got here, so i'm very sorry, the author has Feelings about Skype, transgirl yuri plisetsky, you should almost certainly have read the first 2 works in this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricekrispyjoints/pseuds/ricekrispyjoints
Summary: Ladies' Grand Prix Final Gold Medalist, current SP record holder and all-around spitfire Ieva Rimšaitė challenges Nastya to a 1v1 skate-off."You know I’m a slut for competition, especially when someone has personally impugned my honor."In which Nastya discovers a new layer to her skating, makes new friends, and maybe kicks a little ass.





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

> me to me: this'll be a fun lil thing, 5-7k max !!  
> me, sweating as i break 10k: whooooops
> 
> Anyway so as per usual this got very out of hand and like, who even reads this series idek but i had fun writing it and so here you go
> 
> All my skating knowledge is from YoI and wikipedia and yet i attempted to write this anyway, so please just suspend your disbelief I TriedTM

“Ieva, Ieva! What do you think about Anastasiya Plisetskaya’s decision to continue skating in the men’s division?”

Ieva smiles, but it’s a cold thing that doesn’t reach her eyes. Her English is lightly accented, but she knows exactly what she wants to say. “Miss Nastya thinks she is too good for us in ladies’ division. Well, I don’t think so. I will skate against her, and I will win. What do you say, Miss Nastya? Not too afraid to lose?”

Nastya’s jaw drops.

She’s sitting in the cafeteria at her home rink in St Petersburg, distractedly chewing on a spoon while Mila and Ivan talk about something mundane.

The TV is on, as usual, and Ieva Rimšaitė is being interviewed about her being named to the Olympic team for Lithuania.

That, of course, is no surprise: the seventeen-year-old had been amazing in her season this year, sweeping all of the Grand Prix Series and taking gold at the Europeans and Worlds, too. Mila and Sara were pissed, but Nastya had to admit: Ieva was _damn good._  

But now this girl is going to go and challenge her? Publicly?

“That haughty little—”

“Watch your mouth, Nastya,” Mila warns, because they’ve had more than one discussion of why calling people “bitch” is inappropriate.

“Did you hear that?” Nastya fumes. “She thinks I’m skating in the men’s division out of some kind of superiority complex!”

“Well…” Mila hedges.

“No, the fucking ISU and the RSF told me that I _had_ to stay in the men’s division. It’s not because I think I’m so much better than other women—but like, I can do quads!”

“Ah. Well, I mean, yeah. There’s quads. But I heard a rumor that Ieva is gonna add a quad next year,” Mila says casually.

“Wait, fucking really?” Nastya says, anger disappearing for a moment. “That’s fucking amazing. What have you been doing with your life, Baba? Where’s your quad?”

“Oh fuck off, Nastya. Not all of us has damn tree-trunks for thighs. Have you _seen_ Ieva’s legs? I need to know that girl’s gym routine.”

“Quads aren’t all about legs. I bet she has killer abs, too,” Ivan adds.

“Quick, Nastya, ask Ieva if she has a four- or a six-pack,” Mila laughs.

“Yeah, I’ll ask her. Right after I gladly _accept_ the gauntlet she just threw down at me,” Nastya says, pushing back from the table. Without looking, she throws the spoon she had been chewing at the trash can, and it banks off the wall and falls into the bin in a practiced shot.

“She really is something else,” Ivan says with a dopey look on his face.

“Her boyfriend thinks so,” Mila says with an arched eyebrow.

“Oh, I mean, yeah! I know Otabek. He’s cool. Uh…” Ivan gets up and leaves.

Mila cackles.

Today is shaping up to be pretty great.

 

When Nastya gets home from the rink, she takes a picture of all of her medals and awards to post to her Instagram.

She uploads it, and after careful consideration creates the caption: It would be my honor to compete against you, @Ieva-Rimsaite-skates. But I gotta warn you… #AllIDoIsWin

It’s the off-season, but apparently none of them have anything better to do with their time than skate, so she doesn’t see why a friendly little unofficial competition couldn’t be organized over the break.

She starts daydreaming the planning—who would judge, where would they hold it? Would she use an old program, or come up with something new for this? She supposed she could just re-work an old program to be more feminine, downgrade her quads to triples…

A few hours later, she got a notification from Instagram that Ieva had messaged her.

_Anastasiya:_

_I am eager to see how our skills compare head-to-head._

_Here’s what I’m thinking: We meet halfway, maybe in Kiev. We bring in some official ISU judges—I’m sure our sponsors could pay for them. We do a free-skate, since that’s your world record currently. Mine is in short-program, but I’ll give this to you, as I expect I’ll have the free-skate record soon enough._

_May the best skater win?_

_Ieva_

Damn, this girl is nothing if not confident. She thinks she’s just going to snatch all the world records as if it’s her right? Nastya is both angry on behalf of her friends in the women’s division and impressed by the sheer chutzpah of this seventeen-year-old.

Still, the competitive thrill runs through Nastya, and she immediately sets to writing her reply.

 

_Ieva:_

_Bring it on. Kiev works for me. I’ll talk to my rep about sponsors. I bet we could get some good visibility out of this. You only want one program, or should we not go all-out and do both? To level the playing field, as it were._

_Speaking of leveling the playing field, I won’t do any quads, of course—unless the rumor that you’ve got one is true, in which case let’s chat._

_This off-season? As a ramp-up for the next season? That should give us time to plan and prepare._

_Nastya_

Suddenly, Nastya realizes she only has the one women’s outfit, and that this will give her the _perfect_ excuse to get at least one more dress to skate in.

She checks out the online catalog she typically shops from, wondering what she might like to do, which program she’ll use…

And then she remembers that she’s supposed to visit Otabek over the off-season.

They had agreed to meet in Kazakhstan, as they could both lay a little lower than in St Petersburg, as far as media attention might go.

In Otabek’s hometown, she could just be Nastya, instead of Hey-Didn’t-You-Used-To-Be-That-Guy-Figure-Skater?

But like hell was she going to just waste her whole summer hanging out if she had to find a way to kick Ieva’s ass in a few months.

She typed out a quick text to Otabek, asking if they could chat some time this evening, if he wasn’t already in bed.

Otabek was relaxing for the evening, but not quite in bed, so he called.

“Hey, Nastya. How are you?”

“Hi Beka. I’m actually really good. Did you happen to see what Ieva Rimšaitė said about me on TV today?”

“Uh… no?”

“She wants to fight me.”

“What?”

“Well, she wants to like, have a skate-off. Against me. Because she said some shit about how I supposedly thought I was ‘too good’ for the ladies’ division, and that got me pissed because like, if I didn’t _have_ to stay in the men’s division, I would absolutely switch? But like, the ISU said no, because I have all those quads and stuff?”

“Right,” Otabek agrees. “Wait, so you’re going to do like another Onsen on Ice thing? An informal competition?”

“Yeah, except she is like, all-in here, go big or go home type shit. She wants to hire real ISU judges!”

“Wow,” Otabek says. “That’s… intense. But you love intense, so I assume that’s why you’re in such a good mood?”

“Absolutely! You know I’m a slut for competition, especially when someone has personally impugned my honor,” Nastya says with a laugh.

“Nastya, don’t call yourself a slut,” Otabek grumbles.

“It’s an _expression_ , Beka,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Still,” Otabek sighs. “Anyway, I think it sounds great. When will it be?”

“I suggested at the end of this off-season, as a kind of ramp-up into the new season. And it sounds like we might do it in Kiev? Because she said that was sort of middle ground for both of us, but also a big enough city to draw in supporters.”

“Wow. Yeah, that seems like good logic. And programs?”

“We’re still talking out details. I’ll let you know. But… it’s gonna mean that me visiting you is kinda… less possible.”

“Ah. Well… I won’t say I’m not disappointed, but this is a good opportunity for you. And I could come to the competition, so we still see each other.”

“Are you sure? We see each other so little as it is…”

“I’ll see if I can come to you, maybe?”

“We’ll work it out. I promise.”

“I love you, Nastya.”

“Love you too, Beka.”

 

The next day, Nastya finds herself at the rink trying to think up new programs that showcase her talents outside of quad jumps. She’s probably going to pick Yuuri’s brain for some footwork sequences that will really up her game, but for now she’s content to brainstorm on her own.

Ieva had agreed to do two programs like a regular competition, but asked Nastya to forego quads. She said she had been working on it, but it wasn’t going to be competition-ready in the off-season yet.

Nastya had readily agreed and congratulated her for even getting this far on quads, and jokingly asked for her gym routine on Mila’s behalf.

“Trade secret,” Ieva had replied.

Fair enough.

Nastya has studied up on the technical differences and requirements in the ladies’ division versus the men’s, so she’s conscious of a few elements that will need to be changed as well as some stylistic differences that she’s picked up from Mila, Sara, and of course, poring over Ieva’s routines on YouTube.

The jumps are different, of course, and so are some of the spins. Simple enough.

What’s got her stumped is the music. She’s been thinking of themes for next season, and at the risk of being too obvious, she thinks “pride” is probably a top contender, with “confidence” as a close second.

But what music does she choose?

She thinks of transgender artists she’s heard of and doesn’t come up with much. There’s Dana International, of course, but her music is a little… dated, at this point. Same with Marie France. Against Me!’s music isn’t the most skate-able, though she does like their music.

She skates over to her phone and pulls up a quick google search. There’s a lot of artists, but not many mainstream ones, so she doesn’t really recognize anything off the bat. She clicks on a few names to see what kind of music they do: Kim Petras does pop music, Teddy Geiger had a big hit back in 2009 that Nastya thinks she remembers, and Tona Brown is an opera singer.

She’ll look into their music later, but there’s options, at least.

The artist doesn’t have to be trans, of course, but she thinks at least choosing someone from the LGBT community would be a good use of her platform, especially for this event.

She gets back to planning a routine, testing out combinations of footwork and jumps, and thinks about what kind of music she wants to do.

Since this whole challenge is about Nastya being “one of the girls”, as it were, she thinks she should probably pick something, well, girly for her music.

Swan Lake might work… ugh.

She’ll ask Mila.

 

After practice, she sends a message to Mila about “girly” songs to skate to, and also sends a message to Key asking if they know any trans artists she could support.

Mila replies with a snapchat of her ugly-laughing and snorting, captioned “just imagined u skating to ‘Barbie Girl’”.

Useless.

Mila sends more suggestions, mostly Disney songs.

Scrolling through her classical library, Nastya tries to remember songs with a lot of harp, because for some reason that seems more girly to Nastya: Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet fits the bill, but what a _cheesy_ and overdone piece.

With a sigh, she puts her playlist on shuffle and jams her headphones on for the walk home.

She mashes the “next track” button after just a few seconds of each track. Nothing is working.

This sucks.

 

By the time Nastya has gotten home, fed Potya, and thrown a meal together, she has a reply from Key.

_Nastyaaaa !_

_It’s true there aren’t a ton of (at least openly) trans artists out there, but I know of a few. You mentioned Kim Petras already, and her music is fun and bubbly, if that’s what you’re going for. A guy named Teddy Geiger had a big hit a few years ago, but it’s kinda meh for skating in my opinion._

_Shoutout to the Canadian scene here: Shawnee is a Two Spirit singer and her voice is great. Depending on what kind of theme you’re doing, her song_ Warrior Heart _would be a great skating song._

_Let me know what you think, and I’ll keep brainstorming if those don’t work for you!_

Nastya admittedly doesn’t know what Two Spirit means, but she wants to hear the song first, so she clicks the link Key sent.

The song takes a few seconds to get started, and Nastya nods along with it as it builds. When it hits the refrain, she knows this is her song.

It feels raw and powerful and the lyrics sound good, from what she can decipher (her English is more rusty than she likes to admit, now that Yuuri’s Russian is so good and her Japanese is passable for more than just insults).

While she listens to the song a second and third time, she reads about what Two Spirit means. She discovers it’s a kind of nonbinary gender identity within Native American and First Nations communities, and the fact that Shawnee doesn’t seem very well known only makes Nastya want to use her song even more.

She sends it off to Yakov and tells him to ‘make it happen’.

He texts back a few minutes later that Nastya is “unspeakably rude” but he will contact the appropriate channels to get permission to use the song.

Excited, she starts planning a Free Skate routine to the song, memorizing the ebb and flow of the melody, the rhythm and speed. She looks up the lyrics to make sure she understands everything she’s heard, and the next thing she knows it’s nearly eleven at night.

Otabek has texted her four times and she didn’t even notice.

She scrambles to text him back, apologizing for the radio silence and explaining that she was in the zone and kind of forgot about everything else.

He assures her it’s fine, but he wants to chat on Skype a few minutes before they go to bed.

She angrily closes the pop-up asking if she wants to install the latest update on Skype – “No one wants your shitty updates!”—and pulls up her boyfriend’s contact.

“Hey handsome,” she says as the pixels clear up and she can see his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says back with a smirk.

“How was your day?” Nastya asks.

“Good, I set a new PR on my workout this morning,” Otabek says.

“Yeah, I saw your text. Good job, babe.”

Otabek rambles a little about his gym routine, something funny his sister sent him, and of course Temir’s daily unsolicited opinions on his and Nastya’s relationship.

Otabek sighs. “He was like this to my rinkmate last year, too. And at least he doesn’t object to me dating _you_ in some way.”

“Well he still thinks I’m an evil competitor, so he sort of does object to me,” Nastya grumbles.

“Okay, yeah, but he’s not like, being transphobic or something.”

“Well hurray for that,” Nastya says. “Did he have a bad divorce or something? Like, there has to be a reason he is systematically against all dating.”

“Hmm, maybe. He doesn’t talk about his personal life. Like, ever.”

“Temir sounds like a really boring guy,” Nasta laughs.

“He knows skating, though.”

“He does seem to be doing _something_ right, because your skating has been _amazing_ ,” Nastya beams.

Otabek blushes. Nastya smiles even bigger.

“You’re so cute when you blush, Beka.”

“Shut up.”

“Unspeakably rude!” Nastya laughs, and then tells Otabek about how Yakov had called her that earlier.

“But hey, I found a Free Skate song for this whole showdown with Ieva, so that’s good,” she concludes.

“Yeah, that’s great. Link me? I’d love to listen.”

Nastya copy-pastes the link into their Skype chat, and she tells him about her routine planning so far.

“You should ask Yuuri for help with the footwork sequences,” Otabek suggests.

“Yeah, but I need to make sure it’s still like, _women’s_ skating. This competition with Ieva is on ladies’ rules and requirements.”

“Well, I’m sure if you tell Yuuri what the differences are, he can easily adapt.”

“I’m gonna ask Mila for input, too. And Liliya can probably help, too…”

“You have support in many places,” Otabek says with a warm smile. “Take advantage.”

“I plan to. Ieva thinks she can just talk smack and then beat me? I can and _will_ win this.”

“I believe in you.”

 

The next time Yuuri, Mila and Nastya are all at the rink at the same time isn’t for four more days, since Yuuri isn’t on the ice as much these days—he’s determined to do one final season, despite his pulled-muscle issue not healing 100%. Viktor is watching his husband’s training like a hawk during this off-season.

Nastya’s FS is coming along nicely, though, and she just wants Yuuri and Mila’s input to nuance and finesse the fluidity of the routine.

Mila offers suggestions for arm movements and more common combinations for the ladies’ division, and Yuuri offers a keen eye and technical advice for cleaning up a few transitions.

Nastya is feeling good about the changes and considering the competition is only about ten weeks away at this point, she needs to get down to the nitty-gritty.

And she still doesn’t know what she’s doing for her Short Program.

She spends the next two weeks intensively drilling her Free Skate, and both Yakov and Liliya give their reserved approval of the routine.

Liliya is harder on Nastya than she’s ever been, insisting that her flexibility isn’t up to par with her cis peers.

“Compared to the boys, obviously you are leagues ahead. But compared to that seventeen-year-old pretzel girl you have work to do,” Liliya says sternly.

Nastya groans and works diligently but intently on her flexibility.

When Otabek comes to visit – only for four days, but better than nothing – she shows off how she can hold her leg above her head in a nearly perfectly straight line and he blushes and coughs.

“What?” she asks.

“N-nothing,” Otabek says.

“Oh my god, are you thinking dirty stuff? Because of how flexible I am?” Nastya laughs.

“No!” Otabek says too quickly.

“You _so_ are, oh my god, I love you.”

“What? I mean, I love you too but—”

“You’re so cute, and it’s nice to know that my boyfriend thinks I’m hot.”

“You _are_ hot,” he mumbles.

“Hmm? What was that?” Nastya teases.

“You heard me, Nastya.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughs, and kisses him a little deeper than is totally appropriate for being at a skating rink.

Viktor coos at how cute they are and how he remembers how he and Yuuri were “at that age” and Nastya flies away from her boyfriend, chasing after Viktor and calling him an old man.

 

 

With just eight weeks before the Showdown, Nastya is _really_ pushing it to pick music for her Short Program. She’s got a general scope of the routine, but without music, she really can’t figure out where to place certain elements, determine the timing…

But she just can’t decide on something. She had wanted to do a classical piece to contrast with the pop song of her Free Skate, but her searches for LGBT classical music hasn’t given her what she wants.

(Yes, she knows Tchaikovsky was gay, thanks. Wasn’t there anyone else who wasn’t just a straight cis-man?)

She doesn’t like to admit it, but her Googling skills aren’t that great despite the fact that she’s a child of the internet-age.

“Does it _have_ to be classical music?” Ivan asks, butting into Nastya’s latest whine-fest with Mila.

“Well, I usually do at least _one_ classical piece, because of all my ballet training. It’s just kind of my thing at this point.”

“Do you like jazz?” Ivan suggests.

“I’m gonna be honest, I have never in my life listened to jazz. Other than like, elevator music, but that hardly counts.”

“I’m a big jazz fan, personally,” Ivan continues, “and I think you should give Billy Tipton a try.”

“Why him?” Mila asks.

“I just read about him last week, actually. And, well, he never said anything publicly, but after his death, it came out that he was probably not a cis-man,” Ivan explains delicately.

Nastya and Mila both raise one eyebrow simultaneously.

Ivan coughs. “His er, genitals weren’t as expected.”

“Oh!” Nastya says. “So he was trans?”

“Probably. From what I read, he never really said what he was, so he could have been… what’s the word? Intersex? Or I guess that thing your friend Key, is too.”

“Nonbinary,” Nastya supplies. “Okay, I’ll check him out. What’s a good song?”

“I know he did at least a few standards—Take the ‘A’ Train is one he did, I think.”

Ivan messes with his phone and pulls up the mentioned track. Nastya listens carefully, really _wanting_ to like it, since the artist was LGBT, but it’s not quite grabbing her yet.

She tries to hide her disappointment.

“There’s a ton of other tracks, if you like the general idea but not this particular song.”

She clicks on the next track on the playlist, listening to the tinny speakers of Ivan’s phone.

“Your phone is shit,” Mila says when the next song ends.

Ivan rolls his eyes. “Buy me a new one, then.”

“Baby Vanya still doesn’t have big sponsors, Mila,” Nastya says mockingly. “He can’t afford a nice phone.”

“Of all the times I ask you to call me Vanya, you finally do and it’s to make fun of me?” Ivan groans.

“If she’s teasing you it means she doesn’t hate you,” Mila reasons.

“What?”

“Yeah, if she hated you, she’d treat you like JJ.”

“Do _not_ say that cursed name in my presence!” Nastya yells.

“See?” Mila laughs.

“Here, we’re listening on my phone now,” Nastya says, tapping play on a Billy Tipton video from her own phone.

The track is called “The Man I Love” and it opens with dramatic piano chords, and that already has Nastya’s attention.

About thirty seconds in, a walking bassline and light drums join the piano, giving it a more upbeat feel.

A slow smile spreads across Nastya’s face, and in her mind, she’s starting to see footwork sequences building in time to the drum riffs.

The track is a little long for a Short Program, so she can edit out some of the quieter sections to suit her needs, but she thinks this is going to work out just fine.

 

 

Over the next week, Yakov has to yell at her to _go home, Anastasiya_ at least three times, but both her routines are coming together, technically. They have all the right elements for the ladies’ division, no quads – though she still practices them to keep them up for the upcoming season—and Mila says they look pretty good.

But pretty good isn’t good enough.

Nastya knows that her stylistic elements aren’t quite up to par for the ladies’ division. She’s too harsh, maybe; too hard where she should be soft. 

Nastya wants her Short Program to be a little flirty, but she’s never really done that in a skating routine, and Otabek has never wanted her to be anything other than what she was: brash, a little crass, unapologetically herself.

Yuuri tries to explain how he learned to be more sensual for his Eros routine years back, but Nastya decides it’s too weird hearing about Yuuri trying to learn how to seduce Viktor, so she shuts him down and says she’ll ask Mila.

Mila squeals excitedly when Nastya approaches her, reaching pitches only dogs can hear.

“As your big sister, it would be my _honor_ to teach you how to be flirty,” Mila assures.

“You’re not actually my sister, you know,” Nastya snarks.

“ _Hush_.”

Mila takes Nastya by the hand and leads her into the dance studio. She puts on some kind of clubby music and begins innocently enough with teasing smiles, winking eyes, subtle wrist flicks and popping a hip. Nastya is a bit awkward at the hip popping, but her perfect ballerina posture is no match for Mila, who man-handles Nastya into more fluid and natural poses.

Then, Mila turns it up a notch, adding in hip shaking, body rolling, and dirty dance moves that Nastya will absolutely _not_ be incorporating into her Short Program, thank you very much.

“This isn’t exactly helping my routine, Baba,” Nastya complains after the fifth time Mila insists she’s not sticking her ass out enough.

“No, but it will help your love life.”

“Baba! I don’t need you meddling in my relationship! I need you to teach me how to crush Ieva into the ground!”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll tone it back,” Mila agrees grudgingly.

“See that you do,” an icy voice intones from the doorway.

Liliya is standing in the door frame, inspecting her nails.

Nastya is mortified.

“IT WAS ALL MILA!” she yells, and then wishes desperately to evaporate, since Liliya is blocking the exit.

“What are you trying to accomplish with all these… suggestive moves?” Liliya asks.

“Nastya wanted to be flirty in her Short Program, so I was trying to inspire her. She has no idea how to move her hips,” Mila says matter-of-factly, clearly not at all embarrassed to have been caught hip-thrusting by Liliya Baronovskaya.

“That wasn’t flirting, Ms Babacheva,” Liliya says archly. “That was more akin to bedroom foreplay.”

Nastya groans in embarrassment.

“Pick yourself up, Anastasiya. I will help you.”

Liliya’s version of flirty is very different, not least because she’s a fifty-year-old ballet instructor and not a twenty-something trying to get her friend laid.

They switch up a few arm movements in her routine and add some hip movements that Nastya is going to want to practice at home because she feels like an absolute idiot doing them in the dance studio.

 She kind of wants to Skype Otabek and ask him if they’re too much, but she also wants to surprise him. She does want another opinion though, so she reaches out to Sara Crispino.

She sends Sara a cell-phone video of her routine as it is and asks Sara for stylistic criticism.

“I know there’s some technical stuff I still need to work on, but I just want someone besides Baba telling me what an appropriate amount of flirtiness is for this routine,” Nastya explains.

“What, don’t trust Mila’s judgement?” Sara laughs.

“Not entirely. This is going to be my first public appearance as myself, one hundred percent, on the ice. It needs to be perfect.”

“I got you. And for what it’s worth, I really want you to beat Ieva because she destroyed me in competition last season,” Sara laughs.

“I’ll avenge you,” Nastya promises.

They discuss the routine for almost an hour, though they do get distracted here and there.

“I can see why Baba likes you so much,” Nastya says with a laugh.

Sara goes still. “She does?”

“Uh, yeah? Pretty sure you’re her best friend.”

“What about you?”

“Ah, no, she’s decided I’m her little sister and so I am in my own category.”

“Oh, of course,” Sara smiles.

“Why’d you get all quiet?” Nastya asks, confused. “Why wouldn’t Baba like you?”

“No, it’s just I thought you meant… Nevermind.”

“Don’t do that,” Nastya says. “Tell me. What is it?”

“I thought you were talking about like, how Mila _likes_ me.”

“Oh, you mean how you guys hook up all the time?”

“Jesus, she told you?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Well when we first started… hooking up, I told her that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. She said fine. But then we kept seeing each other, and I thought we were maybe gonna go official and stuff, and then she starts telling me about all these boys she’s dating.”

“Oh _shit_.”

“And like, we definitely never said we were exclusive! I’m not saying that she did anything wrong. It just… kind of sucks. Bad timing, I guess. I finally get feelings and she’s moved on.”

“Sara, you—”

“No, please. I know. It’s a mess. Please don’t tell Mila about this.”

“Fine, I won’t. But you definitely should.”

“Nastya…”

“I’m serious. This is some rom-com miscommunication bullshit,” Nastya says.

“What?”

“I’m like, ninety-five percent sure that Mila would agree to be your girlfriend in a heartbeat if you asked.”

“Did she say that?”

“I mean not explicitly, but she has definitely said something to the effect of ‘Sara doesn’t want a relationship and I have to respect that, woe is me.’”

“…Oh.”

“Look, just talk to her. And if you’re not busy, come to the showdown, yeah? My cheering squad needs to be bigger than Ieva’s.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Sara laughs.

 

With only five weeks to go, Nastya is cutting it a little close for ordering her costumes for the Showdown, but her idea for her Short Program is probably simple enough, as far as ice-skating dresses go.

She wants something blue, flowy and feminine. She wants some beading and sparkles on the bust area, because she thinks it might help make it look like she’s got a little something going on there. Mila tries to talk her out of a halter-style neckline because she says it’ll make her shoulders look too broad, but Nastya won’t be dissuaded.

The sketch she receives is incredible: a teal-blue bodice with silvery swirls outlining the bust flows down into a deeper blue skirt. The neck is the halter she requested, with a silvery gem at the base of her throat.

She tells Otabek about it, and he says it sounds perfect.

“Blue is a great color for you,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful, as always.”

Nastya preens a little at the comment.

The Free Skate costume ends up a bit more complex, but she saw something in the sample catalog and fell in love.

It has long sleeves that end in gloves and crystals _everywhere_ , but Nastya’s favorite part is the skirt which looks a little like a ballet tutu.

She tells the designer about her ideas, and she ends up with an almost graffiti-like splash of black, silver and white crystals all over a pale pink background.

Both dresses arrive just days before she boards a plane to the Ukraine, but they look perfect and she couldn’t be happier with them.

Viktor stands in as her coach, because Yakov needs to be in St Petersburg with his other students since it’s so close to the beginning of the next season.

Yuuri and Mila come along for support, and Ivan promises that he’ll stream the competition in the lunchroom for the other skaters.

Otabek will meet them in Kiev, and Sara said she would be there for the second day, at least.

Ieva had thrown the gauntlet, but Nastya was more than ready to shove it right back in her face.

 

The flight to Kiev isn’t bad, only about four hours, and Nastya grabs a nap on Mila’s shoulder.

They check into their hotel, and Viktor steers a sleepy Yuuri towards their room while Nastya and Mila check out their own.

Once they choose who gets which bed, Nastya decides to do her daily stretches. While she definitely needs to be in top form against Ieva, she’s more worried that if she skips a day, Liliya will _know,_ and rain hellfire on Nastya.

Best to not risk it.

There’s a knock at her hotel room door, and her stomach jumps before she remembers that Otabek won’t be getting in until tomorrow morning.

Instead, it’s Viktor, asking if the girls want to get something to eat.

Yuuri, standing quietly behind his husband in the hallway, looks like he needs a six-hour nap.

“You gonna make it there, Katsudon?” Nastya asks with a smirk.

“Mmm.”

“… Right.”

“Anyone know what kind of food is around here?” Mila asks.

They decide on asking the concierge, whom Nastya is convinced gave them bogus suggestions because they spoke Russian and not Ukrainian.

They end up at a cozy little family restaurant that isn’t going to win any Michelin stars but offers a nice variety of vegetable dishes as the concierge said.

“Told you she wasn’t out to get us,” Viktor chides. “You’re so distrustful, Nastya.”

“She was giving us the stink-eye!”

“Because _you_ were giving _her_ the stink-eye,” Mila laughs.

They order their food and make small-talk until their meals are finished and a tense silence falls over the table.

“So, Nastya,” Viktor begins in his Coaching Voice.

“I was wondering when we were doing this,” Nastya mutters.

“It’s important that you stick to the routine as you’ve planned it,” Viktor continues, unperturbed. “Your familiarity with the ladies’ rules is untested and changing elements could potentially incur deductions if you don’t stay within the parameters of the ladies’ division.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sticking to the plan, got it.”

“And I know you prepared statements with Anna Filatova’s help, but I hope that you’ve also put some thought into your … delivery.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Nastya cuts.

“Well, your er, masculine persona has always been very brusque and intense. Not that I don’t want you to be your authentic self, but now that you are openly a woman, they will probably be expecting you to be a bit more…”

Viktor looks for the word.

“Demure?” Mila supplies.

“Delicate?” Yuuri suggests.

Viktor nods. “Yes, both of those. So, just so I don’t get totally ambushed, what exactly is your plan?”

“I stick to the script,” Nastya says, though her resolve isn’t very convincing.

Mila arches an eyebrow.

“I’m grateful for the opportunity to compete under ladies’ rules, I’m excited for a friendly competition, and I wish Ieva a clean skate,” Nastya recites.

“Are you sure you’re going to stick to that?” Yuuri asks. “I mean, it’s not very ‘you’, and I’ve never known you to hold your tongue.”

“I did just fine with the prepared statements when I came out at the Grand Prix,” Nastya says defensively.

“She has a point,” Mila admits.

“Yeah, but this is… I don’t know. Just promise us that if you’re going to change it up, give us a heads up?” Yuuri asks.

“I can do that,” Nastya agrees.

 

 The next morning, Nastya wakes up with her stomach in knots.

Mila is dead to the world, not even flinching when Nastya tosses a balled-up sock at her. Nastya gets up and gets a light breakfast, returns to her room to shower and stretch, and Mila finally wakes up.

“Mmm, I slept so _good_ ,” Mila says, stretching out like a cat.

“Glad one of us did,” Nastya grumbles.

“You eat?” Mila asks.

“Not all of us lounged in bed all morning, Baba,” Nastya chides.

“It’s eight-thirty, jackass.”

Mila is at breakfast when Otabek arrives around nine fifteen, a little fatigued looking and in casual sweatpants.

Nastya tugs him inside her room by the wrist and they hug each other for a few minutes.

“You’re gonna be amazing,” Otabek murmurs into her hair.

“Mmm.”

“You’ve worked really hard, your style is becoming your own, and we already know your jumps are amazing,” Otabek continues.

“I need to beat her, for me,” Nastya says. “But I can’t beat her by too much.”

“I know. But you’ve seen her skate before, Nastya. You don’t need to hold back on anything,” Otabek reminds her. “You’re already not doing quads.”

“Yeah, I know…” Nastya trails off, pulling away from Otabek to look at him.

Otabek smiles at her.

“I love you,” he says in Kazakh.

“I love you too, Beka,” Nastya replies in Kazakh, and kisses him softly.

“Your accent is getting better,” Otabek says.

“I’ve been practicing,” she says. “Gotta learn so that I can eavesdrop on what Temir is telling you and steal all your moves.”

Otabek rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to steal my moves; our skate styles are completely different.”

“Maybe I’m practicing so I can impress your family.”

“My mother would be very pleased if you spoke Kazakh to her, even with a bad accent.”

“Well you’ll have to keep teaching me, so I don’t embarrass myself.”

“Deal.”

They kiss softly again, and when they pull apart, Nastya feels calmer.

“Better?” Otabek asks.

“Yeah. Let’s kick that chick’s ass,” Nastya says, determined.

“That’s my girl.”

 

Warm-ups begin, and with just Nastya and Ieva on the ice, the rink is oddly quiet.

They’ve gathered a decent crowd, considering it’s not an official ISU event; Nastya hopes that the press coverage will even things out.

Otabek is sitting in the stands with Mila and Yuuri, while Viktor watches from the boards, his index finger resting on his chin as he observes Nastya’s warmup.

She tries to push the crowd and the publicity out of her mind. Right now, she needs to focus on nailing every element. Technically, she feels incredibly confident, especially since quads aren’t in question, but stylistically is where she needs to prove herself as a woman.

Viktor calls her over after a few minutes, muttering about arm placement here or a free leg there, but she thinks he’s mostly trying to keep her focused and calm. Given where Viktor started as a coach, Nastya doesn’t mind this approach.

The announcer informs the rink that the warm up period is over, and that the competition will begin shortly, then gives a short description of the event and of both competitors.

Ieva and Nastya had agreed that the skater to go first would be decided by a coin toss, so they both wait with their coaches as one of the ISU judges flips a coin at her table.

“Ieva Rimšaitė is ‘heads’ and Anastasiya Plisetskaya is ‘tails’,” the judge announces into a microphone.

Nastya holds her breath as the coin flips in the air and lands in the judge’s palm.

“The coin is ‘heads’,” she announces. Nastya deflates. She hates going first and was really hoping to see Ieva’s score so she could gauge the competition better. “Miss Rimšaitė, would you like to first or second?” the judge asks.

“I’ll go first,” Ieva says.

There’s a quiet murmur through the crowd, since most skaters prefer to go last, given the option.

Apparently, Ieva thinks she can show Nastya how it’s done.

Whatever, Nastya thinks. This gives her the advantage for the first day, since the SP is Ieva’s specialty.

Ieva strips off her warm up jacket to reveal a deep purple and grey halter dress with a sort of tree design branching up and out from her hip across her chest. The skirt has an asymmetrical ruffle, and Ieva is also wearing black opaque tights and black skates to complete the look.

She skates around the rink twice before taking her position near the center.

A hush falls over the crowd, and then a slow rock beat begins.

Nastya watches raptly as Ieva begins her routine. It’s edgy and harsh, and Nastya has to admit that it’s absolutely captivating.

She doesn’t even register the familiar melody of _In the Hall of the Mountain King_ until the tempo picks up. The guitars are heavy and clangy and the drums pound out the beat as the tempo increases further.

Ieva’s spins are tight and fast, she jumps with at least one arm up each time, even on her triple axel.

She might have slightly under-rotated that one, but with the bonus of the raised arm, it’ll probably cancel out.

The program is over before Nastya realizes it, and she lets out a tense breath as the crowd erupts in cheers for the star skater.

Nastya claps, too, more out of auto-pilot than anything. It’s hard not to applaud that performance; Ieva is certainly not pulling any punches.

Nastya bounces in place and does a few more stretches while they wait for the scores to come in.

And when they do… Nastya stares wide-eyed.

“And the score for Ieva Rimšaitė is… 81.64.”

“Eighty-one?!” Nastya nearly shrieks. “It’s the off season! How long has she been preparing this program? That’s insane.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Viktor says absently, “the currently ladies’ record for the short program is 85-something.”

“85.68,” Nastya says gruffly. “And _she’s_ the record holder.”

Viktor waves his hands placatingly. “But! You’ve scored much higher than that on your SP before! You’ll be fine. Plus, the free skate—"

“I scored higher because I had _quads_ , Viktor! Lots of them! Fuck, shit, fuck...”

“Nastya, watch your mouth.”

“I’m swearing in Russian; it’s fine.”

“You’re in _Kiev_ ,” Viktor hisses _._ “Ukrainian swears are similar enough, and plenty of people speak Russian besides.”

Nastya growls but stop swearing.

“Now,” Viktor says, placing his hands on Nastya’s shoulders, “stick to the program we prepared. No quads, or they’ll DQ you. Do what you practiced. I know you hate that, but please, Nastya.”

“I’m doing my triples with arms up.”

“Fine.”

“What if I switched—”

“ _Nastya._ ”

“Right, right, sorry. Stick to the program.”

She takes off her track jacket, and when she is announced, she skates out onto the ice.

Her hair is in a simple twist wrapped into a bun, and her dress is the soft teal halter with silver swirls on the chest. The design kind of makes it look like she has breasts, which she originally liked, but now she has to admit, she’s feeling a little exposed.

This is her first big test – the first time that people are fully _expecting_ her to be a woman, to _skate_ like a woman, to _look_ like a woman, to _act_ like a woman. She had some of that at the Banquet, but that was so novel, and on such short notice, and she was riding high on the adrenaline of having come out only hours before.

Now, everyone’s anticipation is at its peak. The event has been announced, talked up for months, and the public seems very anxious to see exactly what kind of skater Anastasiya Plisetskaya is going to turn out to be.

As much as she wants to say she’s the same skater as when she went by her deadname, she _has_ significantly changed her style, and her choreography is different to reflect the ladies’ style.

She takes a lap around the rink before settling into her starting position.

She has time for a couple deep breaths, and then the music starts.

At the first chords of the piano, Nastya spins in a slow circle, arms moving and all she can think is _soft, soft, make it soft!_

She does a couple of other footwork sequences until the drums bring up the tempo, and then she works to gather speed, and skates into her first jump, a triple toe loop. She raises both arms and lands it perfectly, and she feels a slight reprieve in the anxious pit in her stomach.

She transitions into a step sequence that Yuuri had advised on, and she loves how it flows and fits with the music.

She keeps yelling at herself to be _soft_ , she wants to do this right so badly that she’s getting stiff, her face is too harsh, gritting her teeth like this.

She closes her eyes for a split second to school her face, and launches into her triple axel, both arms up, and lands it with perfect rotation.

 _Take that, Ieva!_ She grins to herself.

Her Bielmann spin feels good, as does the Ina Bauer, but then, she wasn’t really worried about those elements.

She tries to remember her face during her final step sequences, to make it fit the song, like Viktor and Mila do so well.

Her last jump comes, a triple-triple combination, and with both arms up, she feels alright about it, though she doesn’t quite get the height she would normally want in the second jump.

Finally, the music ends and she’s in her pose and _god,_ that was only the short program? It felt like it was twice as long.

She picks up a stuffed cat toy wearing a flower crown off the ice and makes her way to the Kiss and Cry.  

Fully braced for this to be the lowest SP of her senior career, she clutches the plushie to her chest. Viktor is beside her, murmuring reassurances. She knows she made mistakes, mostly stylistic, but she’s grateful that Viktor isn’t berating her right now.

Later, she’ll ask for the critique, but right now, she feels a little sick to her stomach.

After an agonizingly long wait, the PA crackles on.

“And the score for Anastasiya Plisetskaya… 81.13.”

Nastya lets out an exhale like she’s been punched in the gut. She’s a half a point behind. This is okay. Ieva is the world record holder, this is Nastya’s first time being scored in the ladies’ division… this is fine.

But also… her men’s SP personal best is 121.40.

That’s quite a blow.

She takes a stabilizing breath, though it doesn’t help much, and Viktor gives her a side hug.

They exit the Kiss and Cry and pack up. Otabek comes down to see her and gives her a quick kiss.

“I’m proud of you,” he tells her.

“Thanks,” she mutters. She’s feeling a little lost.

Were quads that big of a deal? Is she not a good skater without them? Did they really make that much of a difference? How much did she get penalized for style? Her technique has always been solid, and she worked with Mila and Sara and Liliya…

She’s kind of reeling, staring at her feet.

“Hey,” Otabek says softly. “Listen to me. This was a big first for you, it’s the first time you’ve performed this program, it’s the first time you’ve been scored on the ladies’ rubric… and you put this routine together in just a few weeks. Besides, we all know that your real strength is in the Free Skate, okay?”

He kisses her forehead. “I’m proud of you, and I love you.”

Nastya finally meets his gaze. “I love you, too.”

Viktor pulls Nastya over to where the press is waiting to interview her. She pretends to check her makeup in a compact mirror, and then turns to face them.

“How are you feeling about your performance, Miss Plisetskaya?” someone asks.

“Not having quads really changes my skating,” she states as evenly as possible. “I’m happy technically with my skate, just need some more work on stylistic elements.”

“This is by far the lowest score you’ve posted since joining the senior division. Are you worried about the Free Skate?” another reporter asks.

Viktor steps in smoothly when he feels Nastya bristle at the question. “Technically, this is actually a PR for Nastya! She has never competed on the ladies’ rubric before, so this is a great start.”

“What do you think of Miss Rimšaitė’s skate?” a third reporter calls out.

“She had an amazing skate,” Nastya replies honestly. “I was very impressed that she had such a program in the off-season like this.”

“We’ll take one more question,” Viktor says.

A familiar Japanese face raises his hand. “Plisestkaya-san, I have been following Katsuki Yuuri-san’s career as you know, so I must ask: did he help choreograph your routine?” Morooka asks with a smile.

“Katsudon’s step sequences have always been amazing. I needed to bring my best, so of course I asked for his help,” Nastya says with a smile that would have never been seen in her “Yuri” days.

The other reporters laugh good-naturedly, and Viktor thanks them for their time.

She feels okay after the press, but she’s emotionally exhausted more than physically and eager to get back to the hotel.

 

They gather up their group and pile into two cabs: Viktor and Yuuri in one, and Nastya, Otabek, and Mila in the second.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet. Otabek is holding Nastya’s hand silently, and Mila is whispering totally unrelated nonsense—cat memes, mostly – at Nastya to try to distract her.

Nastya has a text from Yakov, but she doesn’t want to read it yet. If it’s positive, she’ll know he’s babying her, and if it’s negative, well, she’s not ready to hear the harsh reality yet.

Later.

When they arrive, Mila says she’s going to check out the hotel pool, and Nastya and Otabek turn on some mindless TV, and just cuddle.

They don’t talk, and they’re not watching whatever drivel is on the television, but it feels nice to be held.

She doesn’t let herself cry, but the last time Nastya received an SP score in the eighties, she had been in juniors.

It’s a little terrifying. Does this mean she won’t do well on her Free Skate tomorrow? She had obviously designed the programs to have the maximum scoring possibility, and of course the maximum score on any program is nearly impossible to attain, but… 81.13.

It stings.

 

The next morning, Nastya wakes up at the crack of dawn. She kind of wants to go for a run to get out some of this nervous energy out, but she needs her legs fresh for the Free Skate, so she does some sit ups on the floor of her hotel room.

She takes a shower, hoping the steam will help loosen her muscles, and then she does her stretches. By the time she’s done, it’s a decent hour, and she heads downstairs for breakfast.

Viktor and Yuuri are already there, drinking coffee and chatting to some locals. When they see Nastya, they wave her over.

“Such perfect timing,” Viktor comments when Nastya sits down. “We were just talking about you.”

Nastya rolls her eyes. They loop her into the conversation and she forces a smile, but _god_ , this is inane.

She eats quickly when her food arrives and excuses herself as quickly as possible.

She heads up to Otabek’s room and convinces him to order room service for his breakfast so that she doesn’t have to go back down and listen to Katia and Olena anymore.

He laughs but agrees and Nastya practices her Kazakh with him.

She can almost forget about the Free Skate in the afternoon, and it’s exactly what she needs.

 

When it’s time to head to the rink, Nastya feels a little like she’s going into battle. She’s not that far behind, and the Free Skate is her specialty, so really, she should feel confident and ready.

But there’s that little nagging voice in the back of her head telling her that she’s nothing without her quads, that she’ll never win this.

Otabek remains steadfast by her side, standing by the boards during warm-ups and offering her positive feedback and encouragement.

Sara arrived late last night, but she and Mila are in the stands with a giant glittery sign that says “Davai, Nastya” and is decorated with little grumpy kittens.

The warm-up goes well, given the pit in her stomach.

Today she has to be a warrior, though. Her song is literally called “Warrior Heart”, so she’s wearing a smoky eye and has her hair in an intentionally messy single braid down the center of her head.

She’s still got her Team Russia jacket on, but she’s wearing the edgy black, silver and pink graffiti-inspired skating dress underneath. Black tights, black skates.

Today is all about stamina, athletic but fluid movements, and kicking _ass_ , dammit.

She needs a definitive win over Ieva, but not _too_ definitive.

Since she’s “last”, she has to skate first today.

When the warm up is over, she shakes out the last of her nerves the best she can and sets her face with pure determination and as much confidence as she can.

Quads or no, she _is_ a good skater. You don’t win the Grand Prix Final with just quads. You don’t qualify for the Olympic team with just quads. She _is_ a good skater, dammit.

She takes the ice, summoning her composure and waits for the music to start.

The piano and drums start and she pushes off.

Shawnee’s voice echoes around the rink, and Nastya does her best to emote as she executes her first step sequence.

She’s got most of her jumps in the second half, so right now it’s about showing off her interpretive skills.

Her first jump goes well, a triple flip, and she continues flawlessly into the step sequence that follows.

Her spins are tight, she switches feet flawlessly… this is a clean skate _and_ an expressive one, if she does say so herself.

The song crescendos and Nastya almost feels like yelling along with the music.

She executes her final jumps, gets the height she wanted… this is it. This has to win.

When she is panting but proud of her performance as the music cuts off, she puts a hand over her heart and bows.

She blows a kiss to Otabek, waves to Mila and Sara who are screaming their heads off… this was the skate she needed.

She’s gonna beat Ieva.

She skates off the ice and to the Kiss and Cry, where Viktor is waiting with open arms. He gives her a quick hug, tells her she did well, and they settle in to wait for her scores.

After she’s waited that eternity, gripping Viktor’s hand so hard she can feel his knuckles crack, the PA crackles on.

“The score for Anastasiya Plisetskaya’s Free Skate…”

The screen flashes.

“167.00.”

“Alright, good, yeah, I can be proud of that,” Nastya says.

Again, so much lower than her men’s division scores, but the ladies’ world record for the Free Skate was 169.12, so not being far off of that feels good.

No way would Ieva score high enough to win this competition…

Right?

“Anastasiya Plisetskaya’s total score comes to 248.13.”

Okay, that’s good. Certainly a blow to her men’s scores, but she can’t think about those; they don’t matter here.

They clear the ice of the plushies that were thrown for Nastya, and Ieva waits patiently by the boards.

Her dark brown hair is in a strict bun, not a single hair out of place, and she has minimal makeup. She has a flouncy gold skirt and – hang on, _is that a Welcome to the Black Parade jacket?_

“Is she _seriously_ about to do MCR because I don’t know if I can be mad about that,” Nastya mutters to Viktor.

“What’s MCR?” Viktor asks.

Nastya sighs and ignores him.

 When Ieva has taken her position, Nastya waits for the tell-tale high G, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, an air-raid siren and a bugle ring out.

“What the f—”

Nastya doesn’t know the song, but judging by the lyrics she’s picking up, recruiting “ladies all around the world”, the song is the epitome of girl power.

Nastya hates that she loves it so much.

She focuses back on Ieva’s routine, which has the crowd cheering as she does a triple toe loop with astonishing height.

“That’s gotta be the one she’s turning into a quad,” Nastya mutters, and Viktor hums in agreement.

The step sequences are fast paced but almost choppy, ignoring the usual fluidity that Ieva demonstrates in favor of almost brute force.

Nastya _knows_ Ieva is a good skater, has seen her set records and hell, saw yesterday’s SP up close and personal.

But there’s something so much rawer today from the Lithuanian girl, and Nastya isn’t jealous, but that’s what _she_ wants to look like on the ice.

Edgy, confident, and _damn good_ at what she does.

Normally, Ieva’s style looks effortless, but this routine makes it look like she is working _hard_ out there and she’s not afraid to look gritty.

When the routine finishes, with Ieva giving a salute as the song keeps saying, Nastya has to clap.

She hopes to god that Ieva’s score is lower than hers, but that was a powerful performance, and Nastya isn’t an asshole.

When the routine is over, though, the nerves come back.

Nerves to see the score, do the calculations in her head, figure out who won before it’s announced because that takes too _long_ and Nastya needs to be put out of her misery _now_.

“The score for Ieva Rimšaitė…”

Nastya holds her breath.

“166.57.”

Almost half a point! Nastya has her beat by 0.4 points!

But then she realizes that she lost the SP by 0.51.

Holy shit.

Both total scores flash on the screen.

Nastya’s heart sinks.

“Ieva Rimšaitė’s total score is 248.21 points.”

Point zero eight.

That’s the margin of difference.

Ieva won by less than a tenth of a point.

“The winner of this competition, by 0.08 points, is Ieva Rimšaitė of Lithuania.”

The crowd is cheering, but it feels distant from Nastya.

She’s won the men’s Grand Prix! Twice! Why couldn’t she win against Ieva?

The logical part of her brain reminds her that Ieva won the women’s Grand Prix, and her previous achievements in men’s skating don’t necessarily matter here.

She’s never felt more bitter about second place than she does right now.

The two skaters are called back onto the ice for the “medal ceremony”, such as it is, and photo opportunities. They’re scheduled to do press after.

Nastya dutifully skates out and shakes Ieva’s hand.

“Congratulations,” Nastya says _._ It feels hollow, she still can’t quite believe how this turned out.

“Thanks,” Ieva says warmly. “Cheer up, Nastya. You skated beautifully, too.”

“Some would say not beautifully enough.”

Ieva makes a face that Nastya can’t quite read.

“I have something you will like planned for the press conference,” Ieva promises, and gives her a hug, which catches Nastya by surprise a bit, since hugging is _not_ something done in the men’s division.

They mount the podium, the medals are awarded, and then they come off the ice, take their skates off, and join their coaches in the press area.

Ieva’s press agent introduces herself and then says that she will call on reporters to ask questions.

The first reporter is called on and she stands. “Charlène Grenier, Patinage Magazine. Miss Plisetskaya, many were expecting your achievements in the men’s division to carry you to victory today. What went wrong?”

Viktor tenses next to Nastya, but she takes a deep breath and nods at Viktor that she’s got this.

“I don’t think anything went wrong, necessarily. I had maybe one jump yesterday, my triple-triple combination, that I didn’t get the height for, but I had two very clean skates. I will go over my deductions in more detail later with my coach, but I am very happy with my skates.”

“If you’re happy with your skates, then why didn’t you win?” Ms Grenier presses.

“Sometimes you skate your best and someone does it better,” Nastya says. “It doesn’t happen to me often, but it did today. By point zero eight points. Ieva skated very well this weekend.”

The press agent indicates the next reporter to speak.

They go through a few banal exchanges about congratulating each other and complimenting how hard the other worked, how it’s only the off-season, that this was a friendly and unofficial meet.

Finally, the press agent says they will take one more question and calls on a woman with intense green eyes in the last row.

“Ugne Mielkienė, Lithuanian Sports Online. Miss Rimšaitė, can you elaborate on why you called for this competition in the first place? Your original announcement sounded like a call-out in response to the announcement that Anastasiya would remain in the men’s division, but you’ve piqued our curiosity.”

Ieva sits up even straighter in her chair.

“I would be happy to elaborate,” Ieva says, eyes sparkling. “I issued the challenge with an ulterior motive in mind.”

The room buzzes with murmurs and surprise.

“It is my belief that Anastasiya being forced to compete in the men’s division is a deeply unfair ruling. I wished to prove that she and I are on equal footing, and her entry into the ladies’ division would not mean an automatic win for her. No skater, no matter how talented—and Anastasiya is immensely talented—has an automatic win.

“Judged by the ladies’ rubric and without her quads, Anastasiya is no more ‘overpowered’ than I am. She has no place in the men’s division because she is not a man, and forcing her to compete as such is a grave injustice.

“As such, I hereby petition the International Skating Union to allow Anastasiya Plisetskaya to compete in the ladies’ division, under the condition that she not perform any quads in official competitions until such a time that other women are able to execute them as well.”

The room practically erupts, a mix of shouted questions, cheers and applause.

Nastya herself is quite taken aback.

She (and everyone else in the room) had thought that this whole competition was because Ieva was a cocky upstart who thought that Nastya had chosen to stay in the men’s division, thinking herself better than the ladies skaters.

And now… this was all a scheme? A plan to _help_ Nastya?

“We have drafted an official petition here, a copy of which we have submitted to the ISU as soon as the results were decided today,” Ieva’s coach adds into the microphone. “Ieva’s victory was not a guarantee, but she felt that it was worth the risk to address this situation correctly.”

Ieva turns to Nastya, away from the microphones. “This is what you wanted, right?” she asks.

“Of course!” Nastya tells her. “It was always the ISU who told me I had to stay in the men’s division. Why would I _want_ to skate as a man if I didn’t have to?”

“Totally understandable,” Ieva says. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I didn’t want you to know about it. I wanted the results to be both of our very best skating. No room for questioning if we had planned for me to win or if you had thrown the competition. You couldn’t know.”

“I… Ieva, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, I guess to start. But I just…”

“Anastasiya,” Ieva says warmly. “I admire your courage and your fight, how strong and confident you are, how you don’t bow to anyone’s expectations. I wish very sincerely to compete against you in regulation competitions.”

“Nastya,” Nastya says. “My friends call me Nastya. And I would love to compete against you too, for real. But next time? I’m gonna win.”

“We’ll see about that.”

 

 

The flurry of the press conference winds down, and they are finally free to head back to the hotel. Viktor and Yuuri go off to call Yakov, leaving the rest of their party to hang out in Mila and Nastya’s room.

Nastya can’t help but flop onto the bed face down and yell into her pillow.

Otabek, Mila and Sara all laugh.

“What a fuckin’ _day_ ,” Mila says.

“Did this really happen? Like, I seriously lost to her, failed to avenge you two’s loss to her… and then she fucking petitioned the ISU to let me compete in the ladies’ division? On the grounds that she, as a cis woman, defeated me? So therefore, I should be allowed in?”

“Yup, that pretty much sums it up,” Sara smiles.

“Iconic,” Otabek says stoically.

“I’m reeling,” Nastya announces.

“Hard same, but I’m also so fucking proud of you,” Mila says. “Like, your skate was _so good_ and like, you looked fucking amazing.”

“Point oh eight…” Nastya grumbles.

“I wonder if she would have still submitted the petition if she had lost? Like, what do you think her cutoff was?” Mila asks.

“Like if I had obliterated her, would she still have gone through with it?” Nastya asks.

“I doubt it,” Sara says. “She could have maybe still supported you, but she wouldn’t have submitted it the same way. She would let it blow over, maybe try to break your score in an official meet and then try again.”

“So my question is,” Otabek interrupts, “will the ISU listen? If they do, is it too late to change you for this season? How do qualifiers work? Like, do you have to go through all the lower level competitions since you technically didn’t qualify to bypass them? Will they give you leeway because of your history, or will they totally throw it all out?”

“Bekaaaa,” Nastya whines. “We’re up here”—she gestures with her hand held high above her head— “trying to enjoy the moment, and you just brought us down to like, here.” She indicates waist level. “Don’t be a downer.”

“I’m not being a downer, I’m asking logical questions!”

“No, you’re bursting my bubble, harshing my vibe. Stop it.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, and tugs her down to kiss her cheek.

“Gross, get a room!” Mila laughs.

In return, Sara tugs at Mila and kisses her cheek. “Gross, we should get a room.”

The two look at each other for a moment, as though judging how serious the line was.

“God, get _out_!” Nastya yells, and chucks a pillow at Mila.

Mila and Sara giggle and head over to Sara’s room, apparently.

“Mila is so fucking useless,” Nastya grumbles. “If those two aren’t dating by tomorrow I’m going to kick both of their asses.”

“You of all people should know that using your words is hard,” Otabek scolds playfully.

“Shut up and kiss me, how’s that for using my words?”

“Say it in Kazakh, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

 

The next week is a whirlwind that begins with a series of meetings with Anna Filatova, Yakov’s press agent, and phone calls with the ISU.

The ISU’s legal team is hastily writing a contract for her entry into the women’s division: in addition to the no quads clause, which Nastya readily accepts, they have been trying to push for her to disclose various medical tidbits about her transition, namely to agree to begin HRT as soon as possible to reduce her testosterone levels.

Nastya _is_ planning on starting HRT, but she hadn’t thought joining the ladies’ division was possible, so it was going to be delayed, since she would need to keep up her muscle mass and such to compete against the men.

 It is, in short, a mess.

She explains the situation to her GP, and they pull some strings to have an appointment on short notice and discuss her options, how it will affect her skating, and so on.

With her doctor’s input about how and when HRT will begin to affect her physically once she begins, she comes back to the negotiating table with a clearer idea of what the ISU can and cannot expect her to do.

A lot of fine print is modified, Anna Filatova strongarms the contract into her terms, and finally, an agreement is reached just twelve days before the official start of the new season.

Anastasiya Plisetskaya will be competing in the ladies’ division of figure skating.

And there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop her from kicking as much ass as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> well that was fun !!  
> find me on tumblr as ricekrispyjoints, if you're into that kind of thing
> 
> ya boy tried to html the links.... let me know if they don't work right lol
> 
> Nastya's SP : 
> 
> [Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cretQsUSUaE)
> 
> [Costume inspo](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/4b/09/a3/4b09a3ff0bff1d192385183a70ccc00a--ice-skating-dresses-dance-fashion.jpg) 
> 
> [Hair inspo](http://www.kitsylane.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Easy-updo.jpg)
> 
> Ieva's SP :  
>  [Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZVebSr-MFM)
> 
> [Costume inspo](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3e/9f/ca/3e9fca2e12cd0eedfd73b3db160c7900.jpg) 
> 
> Nastya's FS : 
> 
> [Song](https://youtu.be/VMdQANUS4xo)
> 
> [Costume inspo](https://timedotcom.files.wordpress.com/2018/02/alina-zagitova.jpg)  
>  [Hair inspo](https://viewkick.com/content/1200/2015/07/0085f57b6fca69c9de2bebb0b59f0038-hIkUQhmxHe.jpg)
> 
> Ieva's FS :  
>  [Song](https://youtu.be/Kjpa0SMOug0)
> 
> [Costume inspo](http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/dmax9u-l-610x610-jacket-cute-pretty-marching+band-music+band-chemical+romance-coat-cute+dress-sexy-asian+swag-swag-winter-amazing-bands-band+t+shirt-black-band+jacket.jpg)


End file.
